Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: How I Spent My Summer Vacation (#834)
Author: GypsieRose
Chapters: 13

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Alternate Universe (AU)
Description: ...or "What a Man, What a Man, What a Mighty Good Man." A portal-from-Middle-Earth parody story with a twist.
Published: 19 Apr 2004
Updated: 19 Apr 2004
Warnings: No redeeming social value
Type: Humour
Characters:


Chapter 1 - School's Out for Summer

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This isn't poking fun at any particular story. We're just having some fun with the portal idea, no offense intended to anyone. We promise characters will start showing up soon. Uh, we're going to make sarcastic jokes about most of them, but it's all in fun and they're Lisa's views, not ours. We cannot stress that enough. We love all our readers!

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June 9

I'm not very good at this whole journaling thing--I mean, I haven't kept a diary or anything since high school, which was, what? Fifteen years ago or more?-- but it seems a shame not to document the progress I'm making on my house. School's finally out, and I've advanced enough on the salary schedule to purchase a rather lovely, old, four-bedroom Victorian with wood floors, a fireplace, and a nice piece of yard. My friend Michelle thinks I'm crazy for even wanting a yard, or a fix-it-upper house far too big for just me to go with it, but I figure that after teaching high school English, this should be a cakewalk.

I finished stripping all the floors today, and then re-assembled my desk and plugged in the computer. And, alas, that's it. I'm afraid I got a touch distracted, between surfing the web for more Lord of the Rings desktop photos and reading really amusingly bad fanfiction. I have to laugh at all the stories where some character gets magically transported into "our world" and then proceeds to fall madly in love with the owner of whomever's house he happens to land in. Please--how likely is that? And I'm so sure the Prince of Mirkwood wants to go roller skating with you. Riiiight....

Anyway, all that playing around made it impossible for me to accomplish anything else today. Oh well, there's a whole summer ahead of me, and I'm sure I'll do better tomorrow.

Lisa


Chapter 2 - Legolas Comes Out of the Closet?!

June 10

I'm still pinching myself to see if all of this is real. Just last night, I was scoffing at the stupid, fish-out-of-Middle Earth stories I was reading, and this morning...well, I better start at the beginning.

I swore to myself when I woke up at 8:00 that I'd have a much more productive day today than I did yesterday, and I went down to stir the paint to paint my new guestroom upstairs. A really nice midnight blue--oh, but I digress. I knew I wanted to take the closet door off in there, as it's an antique and all, and I didn't want to get paint all over it. It was as I unhinged the door that I realized I might have gotten more than I bargained for in this house.

He leaped out at me, bow drawn, an arrow just inches from my nose. I must confess, I screamed--after all, one isn't accosted by bogeymen in one's own house every day. It was when he put the bow aside and sighed, "Sweet Eru--not again!" that I realized this was going to be an...interesting day.

I didn't even bother with the "you're a fictional character and cannot possibly be here" speech I'd read a thousand times last night on the net. Why bother? It wasn't as if he was going to go, "Oh, yes, terribly sorry," and disappear or anything. So, I simply said, "This is a regular occurrence? Popping out of my closet?"

"Not your closet, specifically," Legolas--for there was no mistaking this elf--answered. "Actually, not even closets, generally. Most every other occasion, I have come out of the television during a rather violent electrical storm. That is very uncomfortable, you can imagine."

"I suppose it would be," I answered. And all the while, I'm thinking, Great--I get a magic portal to Middle Earth, the envy of every teenaged girl, and all that comes out of it is a poncy elf. Shouldn't these things adjust for their owners' tastes or something? So I wanted to let the elf down gently, and I said, " Well, it's nice of you to pop in and all, but I can't really see any use I'd have for having you here. Unless you want to help me paint?"

His blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You do not, perchance, have a teenaged daughter lurking about here, do you?"

I have to admit, I was a tad offended at that. I know I'm not a spring chicken here, but I couldn't possibly look that old. "No, I most certainly don't. Nor do I have the tastes of one, so as I was saying--"

"You are not going to jump me, molest me, call me sickeningly sweet pet names or take me to the mall?" He spat the last with such distaste that I gathered he's been there countless times already.

"Um...no. But I could use help with the painting, if you're not in a hurry."

"This is the best trip to your world I can recall!" Legolas shouted gleefully, clapping me on the back. "The portals are usually defunct for anywhere from six hours to ten days after we are thrown through them, so I suppose the least I can do for you is to paint until it opens up again. The others are not going to believe that I got away so unscathed this time."

Something in his offhanded manner made me shiver a bit there. "Others?"

"We all face this dilemma of getting pulled to your world now and again--some more than others." He then added with chagrin, " Me, more than most. I cannot begin to describe to you the tortures I have experienced here."

I could only imagine poor Legolas, stripped of more of his dignity with each shopping mall, fast-food restaurant, and amusement park he was dragged to. "Well, the worst I'll ask of you is a little help with the painting. See, I just bought this house...."

To make a long story short, by ten that evening, my guestroom and half the master bedroom were painted, and I was waving a cheery goodbye to the prince of Mirkwood as he stepped gingerly back into the closet from whence he'd come. I imagine that's the end of this whole mess; the portal is closed, and I'm on my own again.

Lisa

*******

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Please note, it is the character who thinks elves are "poncy," not the authors. Rose, in fact, quite likes them.


Chapter 3 - The Princess, the Drapes, and the Wardrobe

June 16

I don't believe it. There is definitely something weird about this house.

Since my encounter with the Prince of Mirkwood I've been making good progress. The painting doesn't go as fast without his help, but I did finish the whole top floor and started on the entryway.

I e-mailed Michelle to tell her about the visitor from Middle-Earth and she thinks I was crazy just to send him back; she said I should have put him up on eBay and auctioned him to the highest bidder. Michelle always did have a cruel streak.

But I figured that was going to be the only big surprise of the summer. This morning proved me wrong. I found a gorgeous old wardrobe up in the attic and had it moved downstairs so I could refinish it. It was definitely empty when I found it, but as soon as I opened the door I found myself looking straight into a pair of shocked deep blue eyes. I think we both screamed simultaneously.

No, it wasn't Legolas this time, but it was an elf. Arwen, to be precise. I guess the portal figured that if I didn't want the prince, I must prefer women. Either that, or my house just has a thing about spitting out elves. I don't know which would be worse.

Once we both recovered, I asked her if this had ever happened to her before. She replied, "No, but Legolas has told me about it. I had always hoped that if it did happen to me, there would be a good-looking man on the other side."

"The disappointment is mutual," I told her. Mentally, I added, So much for love that lasts for all time. I bet Aragorn doesn't know about that.

Figuring she was stuck there for the morning, I helped her out of the wardrobe and looked around for something for her to do. As it happened, my other project for the day was to start re-hemming the drapes for the dining room. I gathered them up, found a needle and thread, and sat her down on the couch with the project. She cheered up a little then. "Oh goody, I love sewing!"

That was lucky, because I hate it.

I made her a peanut butter sandwich for lunch, and she had the curtains finished by the time I'd sanded down the wardrobe doors. She had time to do the living room curtains as well before the portal re-opened.

I admit I've made more progress with the help of these elves than I would have alone, but I wish the portal would send me a man next time. A mighty good man. The elves are pretty, but they just don't do it for me, you know?

Lisa

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Don't worry, good things will happen to Arwen later!


Chapter 4 - A Mighty Short Man?

June 21

Okay, perhaps when I was "praying" to my cursed house, I wasn't specific enough. Or the blasted thing has a really unfortunate sense of humor.

I've finished painting everything and hung the lovely drapes, thanks to Arwen, and now it was time for me to roll out those carpets I've inherited from various family members over the years. I've always been a fan of Persian rugs, and now I finally had someplace to show off all the ones I had that had been sitting in storage forever.

Anyhow, it was mid-afternoon yesterday when I got to the rugs in the living room. I knew I had to push back the couch, which is no small feat, really, when you're a one-woman moving company, so to speak. I probably should've waited to place the couch, but I needed somewhere to sit, and couldn't paint with the rugs down. So, I figured I'd start at one end, give that a heave-ho, and then catch up the other end later.

I pushed with all my might, hoping I wouldn't scrape my carefully polished hardwood floors, and managed to swing one side of the couch significantly away from where it had originally stood. And there, huddled in a fetal ball beneath it, lay a shivering and sniffling Frodo.

I rolled my eyes. Okay, when I said 'man', I meant 'male more than three feet tall and not an elf'.

I touched Frodo's shoulder, and he jumped up and ran cowering to the corner nearest the fireplace. "Get away!"

"I'm not gonna hurt you," I offered pointlessly. "You just fell through the cursed portal in my house. Odd--it's never been under the couch before."

He straightened up almost immediately. "Oh, just another portal to 21st Century Earth, then?"

I nodded.

"You don't have any teenaged daughters hiding about, do you?" His baby blue eyes were impossibly wide with terror at the very thought.

"What is it with you Middle Earth people?! Do I honestly look old enough to have a teenaged daughter?!"

Frodo promptly began to cry. I could see that this was going nowhere. I had absolutely no desire to comfort and console him. He had a look on his face that said, to my trained teacher's senses, "But Mr. Parker's classes have their paper due on Monday...." I didn't want another whiny teenager type on my hands. Besides, any attraction to this little fellow seemed too much like dating one of my students. (I know he's really about 50, but I just can't get the whole kid-looking thing out of my head. Definitely not my taste. Stupid house.)

"Why don't you just lie here under the couch until the portal comes in again?" I suggested helpfully. "I can move the couch back, and you'll be nice and safe there."

I have no idea how long he sat under there. All I know is that by the following evening--tonight--he was gone.

Lisa

*******

AUTHOR'S NOTE: To any Frodo fans who are reading: We're sorry! We just couldn't come up with anything for Frodo to do. As always, the views expressed here are Lisa's, not ours. (Rose: Especially not mine! I like hobbits.)


Chapter 5 - A Horse is a Horse, of Course...

June 30

I'd thought I was rid of all the visitors from Middle Earth once and for all, as I'd failed to have one for quite some time. Maybe the portal was snippy at my making demands upon it, or sending back all its previous 'gifts', I'd thought. But apparently I was wrong.

I decided I had to give in and go grocery shopping, as much as I loathed it. After all, there's only so much peanut butter a woman can eat. So I got up at around 10:00 today to shower and go to the store before the place got too crowded.

I threw off my nightgown and pulled back the shower curtain, to find Éomer standing in my shower. Accustomed to this sort of thing by now, I didn't scream, but he sure did. He held his hand up over his face for a good two minutes after I assured him I was wearing a towel and he had nothing to fear. Geez--I didn't think I looked that bad!

Éomer was armored and filthy and stank like a stable that hadn't been cleaned forever. He kinda brought on a 4-H flashback before I came to my senses and explained to him that if he was going to stay in this house and anywhere near me, he needed to bathe. A lot. He got all squeamish and complainy at first, but when he realized I was going to leave him alone for it, and wouldn't offend his modesty or anything, he agreed to give it a try.

I finally gave up on him about noon, when it was clear that no amount of Herbal Essences Body Wash was going to remove that horse smell. He actually looked kind of dejected then: I mean, the portal obviously hadn't come back, as he'd been standing in it for two hours, and he really was trying to be presentable. It was then that I had a stroke of brilliance.

"You know, Éomer, I have a tree that was hit by lightning the other day--"

"Did Legolas come out of your television then?" he interrupted.

"Um...no. He came here via portal weeks ago, just as you did. Only he came out of the closet." I thought about that for a minute, then rephrased, "Um...walked out of the closet upstairs. Anyway, as I was saying, that tree really needs chopping. Since it appears that you're...unsuitable for work indoors, would you mind taking care of that tree? The axe is in the toolshed."

"I would be glad to, my Lady," he replied.

My heart gave a little flutter there, and I thought for a second that maybe if I pinched my nostrils together with a clothespin...but no. The odor would be in my sheets for weeks. "That would be lovely, Éomer," I answered.

He walked out the back door, and I watched him heft the axe from my kitchen window. A thought occurred to me then: might as well make the best of the situation. I opened the window and called out to him, "Oh, and Éomer?"

"Yes, my Lady?" he called back, swinging the axe about a bit for practice.

"Would you mind chopping that tree up...shirtless?"

He was grinning, and I could've sworn he winked. "Not at all, my Lady."

I offered him another shower to cool off afterward, and he gladly accepted. After I'd heard the water running for over 20 minutes, I went in to check, and he was gone. Unfortunately for him, his armor was still in a pile on my bathroom floor. Hope he didn't zap back in the middle of a battle...

Lisa

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: We do think he's good-looking, honestly, but we needed some excuse to make the ending work out. Hope you Éomer fans enjoy the shirtless scene as compensation!


Chapter 6 - Garden Secret

July 2

I'll say this for my cursed portal: it usually brings me something useful. With the exception of poor Frodo, I've gotten some help from all my visitors.

The house is progressing well, but I realized today that I really couldn't afford to ignore the garden any more. I don't think the previous owners did much with it over the past couple of years, because the place was getting overrun with grapevines, bindweed, and "volunteer" seedlings.

I had really hoped to finish the butler's pantry today, and I'm way behind on refinishing the bannisters, but I set those plans aside and marched out to the tool shed. I opened the door and strode purposefully inside--or I tried to. Actually I tripped over something just inside the door. Something that hollered very loudly at being tripped over.

"Watch where you're goin' won't you?"

I blinked at the figure in the dim light. "Um...Samwise Gamgee, I presume?"

"That's me," he answered, rubbing his head.

I believe I actually squealed with delight. "Just the person I wanted to see. Hobbit. Whatever."

He looked at me through narrowed eyes. "You're no teenager, beggin' your pardon, ma'am."

I decided I'd forgive him for that on account of his extremely timely arrival. I grabbed his hand, pulled him out of the shed, and pointed him toward the garden. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Fair neglected, this place is."

"That's right. You're the only one who can help me, Sam."

Without a word, he turned around and marched back into the shed. A second later he reappeared, carrying several garden implements. They were all much too large for him, but that didn't seem to bother him: he made a beeline for the flowerbeds and started weeding with a vengeance. Meanwhile, I went back inside and started on the butler's pantry.

We had both finished our jobs by late afternoon, and then he made me a delicious dinner out of some edible mushrooms he found growing in a corner of the garden. After dinner he went out to put the garden tools away. I wasn't entirely surprised to see that he didn't emerge from the toolshed again, but I was rather sorry. I could have gotten used to having a useful guy like him around.

All the same, I do wish the portal would send me another full-sized man.

Lisa

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wouldn't we all like Sam to show up and fix our yards for us?


Chapter 7 - Not what I Had in Mind by "Fireworks"

July 4

With the garden looking lovely and the work on the house pretty much complete, I was finally able to take a breather and just relax for the holiday. All I have left now are the unpacking and the little final touches. I thought about going to see the fireworks this evening, but it turned out that I didn't really need to...

I thought the portal and I were finally coming to an agreement after it had sent Sam, who was useful, if short. However, I still think the house has a rather nasty sense of humor, for I opened my broom closet at about three this afternoon, and Gandalf tumbled out of it.

"A wizard does not tumble out of broom closets!" he bellowed at me, rather unnecessarily, as I hadn't said a thing. "He arrives precisely when and where he means to."

"So you were planning a trip to 21st-century Earth, then?" I couldn't help but be a little snippy at his pompousness.

"Actually, no," he sighed, settling into one of my kitchen chairs. "I am getting quite tired of these little detours. After all, we have a Ring to destroy and a war to win back home, you know. And it's very difficult to accomplish all that when key players keep winking out for dalliances with teenaged 21st-century girls!"

"There are no teenage girls here, believe me."

"I suppose that's something to be thankful for," he said with a nod. "Though it isn't as if they are ever much interested in me anyhow."

I guess the average teen doesn't go much for power and magic and all that. Too bad for Gandalf. He went on about it for quite some time, expounding on how Legolas disappeared constantly and often came back with French-braided hair and new Levis, and how once Éomer popped out during the very end of Helm's Deep and arrived back not wearing a stitch, smelling like roses and horses combined. I decided it was best to keep my mouth closed on that one.

Anyway, by the time Gandalf had stopped complaining, it was already getting dark. I'd microwaved us both a pair of hot dogs at around five-ish, but I knew I wasn't getting any fireworks in that evening.

Or was I? Couldn't hurt to ask, right?

The fireworks display Gandalf put on for me in my backyard was quite superior to any I'd seen for quite some time. I'm just glad all my neighbors had gone to the fairgrounds to watch the official show!

Lisa

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AUTHOR'S NOTES: For our overseas readers, July 4 is Independence Day in the U.S. As you may know, it is traditionally celebrated with fireworks. Bet you never knew Gandalf was such a patriot.


Chapter 8 - Hit With Cupid's Arrow

July 11

This place is really starting to feel like home now that some of my stuff is unpacked. It had been a quiet week since Gandalf's arrival, with no new visitors from Middle-Earth. While it was nice to be able to work in peace, I did find myself almost hoping to see someone every time I opened a door or moved a piece of furniture. Come on, portal, I thought. How about someone who's not three feet tall, not an elf, and not several millennia old this time? Oh, and who doesn't stink like horses.

This afternoon I found the box with the formal dinnerware which I inherited from my grandmother. I put the box in the kitchen and then went off to get some shelf paper to lay down before unpacking the dishes. When I opened the door, I found that my prayers had been answered--but I'm more convinced than ever that the portal has a twisted sense of humor.

Boromir stumbled into the dining room with several thick arrows protruding from his chest. I dropped the shelf paper and grabbed his shoulders, turning him as he fell so that he wouldn't bleed all over my beautiful Persian rug.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he hit the floor.

I sighed at the irony of it all. "You know, I would have been really happy to see you fifteen minutes ago."

"I'd have been happy to come here fifteen minutes ago," he replied through gritted teeth.

"I'll call 911," I offered.

"You mean the emergency number?" I guessed he'd been through a portal or two himself in the past. "That's very kind of you, but it's too late for me. I won't trouble you any further."

He struggled to his feet and, before I could argue with him further or even give him a parting smooch, he crashed back through the kitchen door. Either the portal was open again already or it hadn't closed from when he arrived, because when I ran after him, he was gone already.

All right, portal. Next time, please send me someone who doesn't smell like horses, is more than three feet tall, is not an elf, is not ancient, and is not dying. Please?

Lisa

*******

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Poor Boromir. Again, as with Éomer, it has to be this way for the ending to work. Sorry. *Sniff.* We do believe he'd be a gentleman if he weren't dying.


Chapter 9 - Hunka Hunka Burnin' Love

July 15

Michelle was horribly jealous when I told her Boromir had paid me a visit, arrows or no arrows. I realized later that I should have taken a picture for her, but I had to settle for sending her a shot of the bloodstains on the woodwork as proof.

Today I was in the living room, putting the finishing touches on the decor. I was up on a stepladder hanging a print of Monet's "Houses of Parliament" above my fireplace when I heard a loud thump and a yell, accompanied by an enormous cloud of soot billowing out from the hearth below me. The phrase "Christmas in July" sprang to mind, but the foot sticking out from the opening did not look like Santa's. With some apprehension I climbed down the ladder and looked into the fireplace. An extremely irate Steward of Gondor stared back at me with mad, burning eyes.

I folded my arms and glared right back at him. "I do not have enough fire insurance to deal with you," I said. "You're going to stay right where you are until the portal opens again, capisce?"

I half-expected him to argue, but perhaps he had been somewhat stunned in the fall, because he stayed there quietly until the portal opened again. All the same, I'm calling my insurance agent first thing in the morning to increase my fire coverage. Meanwhile, at least Denethor did me the service of sweeping my chimney with his clothes on the way down, so I suppose every cloud has a silver lining.

I must remember to add "not insane" to my list of requirements.

Lisa

*******

AUTHOR'S NOTE: We don't know either. Honestly.


Chapter 10 - Return to Sender

July 22

I've just had an experience which I would have counted as shocking only two months ago; however, tonight...or rather, this morning...I'm not in the least bit surprised.

I woke up famished at about one a.m., and decided I would go down and make myself a cold fried chicken sandwich out of last night's leftovers. Nothing like a bit of the Colonel as a late-night snack! I stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen, not even bothering to turn on a light.

I pulled open the refrigerator door, and Gimli stepped out, munching on the last of my chicken. He must have sensed my growing wrath, because he said, "I know. I know. Back in the portal," and then heaved a huge sigh.

I would have felt sorry for him if he hadn't finished off my supper.

"This happens every time," he said sadly. "Nobody tosses a dwarf."

At least he had the courtesy to pull the door closed behind him. How "dwarf" equates to "man", I'll never know.

Lisa

*******

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Gimli fans, sorry. Both of you.


Chapter 11 - Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

July 26

I'm going to have to go grocery shopping again, but that's the least of my worries. Today I was getting ready to put up wallpaper borders in the dining room, but I decided to have a little lunch first. When I walked into the kitchen, I heard some strange noises coming from the pantry and went to investigate. I had a hunch what I would find when I opened the door, and sure enough, there were Merry and Pippin, seated on the floor, happily munching away on jam sandwiches and Lucky Charms.

They bounced up and bowed politely, but I noticed that they kept looking hopefully past me as if expecting to see someone else. "Will you stop that?!" I shouted. "I do not have any teenage daughters!"

Merry looked disappointed. "Right shame, that, isn't it, Pip?" he asked.

Pippin, whose mouth was full, simply nodded.

I pointed to the kitchen. "Out of my pantry, if you please. As long as you're here, you two can at least make yourselves useful." Stupider words were never spoken. I should have remembered who I was dealing with.

Now I contemplate my dining room. The border, meant to run parallel to the ceiling, is currently running at a 135-degree angle until it hits the floor, where it bounces back up again. Pippin found a magic marker and signed his name on the walls in several places. My floor is coated in at least an inch of wallpaper paste, thanks to Merry kicking over the bucket while trying to demonstrate how Treebeard booted an orc over Isengard. Never mind. I'll deal with it in the morning.

Note to portal: Two three-foot men are not the same as one six-foot man. Next time, please send me a really hot guy.

Lisa


Chapter 12 - A Really Hot Guy

July 31

Oh, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. That was NOT what I meant.

I took a night off and went over to Michelle's place. We rented Arsenic and Old Lace, a truly fine movie. It started me thinking about the window seat in my new place, and I realized that I had never actually opened it. So when I got home a little after midnight, I found my eyes drawn inevitably toward it, as if it were compelling me to look inside. "Don't be silly," I told myself. "It's only a window seat. The movie's getting to you. There's not going to be a body in there."

So I gritted my teeth and opened the window seat. I felt for a moment like I was channeling Cary Grant, because there was a body in the window seat. It was Faramir, and he was out cold--or maybe cold isn't quite the word, because he was quite feverish. I could have screamed in frustration. What is it with those brothers?! Why can't I get one when he's not on the brink of death?

Alas, I have a conscience, so instead of taking advantage of his condition, I searched around for something to help him. All I could find was Midol, but I figured it was better than nothing. I managed to get a couple of pills down his throat, and then put an icepack on his forehead. I figured he'd need it. I can't say I'm completely innocent in this scenario, though, because I did grab my digital camera and snap several pictures to tease Michelle with before closing the window seat and sending him back.

Okay, portal. I'm giving you one more chance, and I'm going to spell it out this time. PLEASE SEND ME ARAGORN.

Lisa

*******

AUTHOR'S NOTE: See notes for Éomer and Boromir.

EXTRA AUTHOR'S NOTE FROM ROSE: One day, I'm going to get to end a story the way I want! *grrr* But this story was Gypsie's idea, so she got to choose the ending. You can figure I'm basically "Michelle" here.


Chapter 13 - All's Well That Ends Well

August 2

I think this might be the last journal entry I write. I have a feeling I'm going to have some busy times ahead.

Last night, just as I was drifting off to sleep, I was awakened by a violent rocking of my bed. I thought perhaps it was an earthquake or storm or something, but I soon realized the cause when I heard a rather frustrated, albeit quite nice masculine voice say, "Sweet Elbereth, where am I now?"

My heart leapt in my chest, but I didn't want to get my hopes up before I turned on the light. I reached over to the nightstand and flipped the switch on my lamp. Oh, portal, I could kiss you!

There, in my bed, sat a slightly confused, richly-dressed Aragorn. Silk shirt and leather vest and really tight breeches and barefoot, even, and...oh, I'm getting away from the point. He even looked like he'd bathed recently.

"Twenty-first century Earth, right?" he asked, a little chagrined, while scratching his stubbled chin.

"You betcha," I answered, trying to look as coy as one can in paint-spattered sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt.

He sighed. "I suppose it's just as well. Good thing your bed was there to break my fall--I've never come here out of thin air before."

I was a little puzzled by his reaction. Though I was perfectly agreeable about him having fallen into bed with me, I was a little surprised that he'd think it was a good thing. "Just as well?"

"Yes, you see, last week Arwen went through one of these, and she came back two days later going on about the 'dashing Captain Jack Sparrow' and how she needed to get back to him posthaste." He ran a hand through his long, dark hair in obvious frustration, and gave a weak half-smile. "Things at home have not been the same since."

I tried to sound sorry; I really did. "Oh. That's too bad." I scrutinized the area above my bed, trying very hard not to visibly smile. "It's also too bad that your portal doesn't seem to be accessible any more."

"Well," he began thoughtfully. "I can do yardwork. I've gotten rather good at it, as that's what all the Legolas fans have me doing when I appear in their houses."

"Sam's already been here," I said, trying hard to supress my lascivious grin. "And Éomer chopped all the firewood I'll ever need, in case you were wondering."

"I paint, too."

"Legolas," I answered simply.

"I can hang wallpaper," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Merry and Pippin." He opened his mouth to reply, but I added, "And before you ask, I already fixed it."

He closed his mouth, thinking. He was grasping at straws, then. "Sweep your chimney?"

I couldn't help but smile. "Denethor," I sang out.

Even he chuckled at that. He cocked his head in a most endearing manner and gazed up at me, holding my complete attention with his piercing gray eyes. "It seems you have run out of things for me to do, then?" His tone of voice hid little, in my opinion. The corners of his mouth turned up in a rather naughty little smile.

How could I resist? "Well, there is one other thing you could do...."

I don't feel I have time to go into a lot of detail here--after all, His Majesty awaits. Suffice to say, we woke up quite late this morning. I'm quitting this journal. I don't know how long Aragorn will be here, and I want to enjoy every gorgeous second!

Lisa

*******

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

If we authors have offended,
Think but this and all is mended:
That you have but dallied here
While these chapters did appear,
And this weak and idle theme
No more real than a dream.
Readers, please do not us flame.
Remember, this was just a game.
And as we are two honest scribes,
We offer you this tiny bribe:
If time spent here was but a waste,
Our other work may fit your taste,
Or "Gypsie Rose" both liars call.
So goodnight unto you all.
Give us reviews, if we be friends.
And this is where our story ends!

(Our apologies to William Shakespeare.)

EXTRA AUTHOR'S NOTE FROM GYPSIE: My apologies to all the Aragorn/Arwen fans, but I'm getting my way at the end of this thing. He's mine. And yes, I know that makes me just as bad as all the teenage girls I was joking about, but I don't care!

TRIVIA: Can anyone identify all four Shakespeare quotes we used in this story? (Three are easy, one is pretty obscure.)
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Printed from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) on Sat Nov 14, 2026 8:12 pm